


Who Will Comfort Sammy?

by Thette



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, Supernatural
Genre: Camping, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thette/pseuds/Thette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean and Cas go camping, but an ancient creature of cold and loneliness roams the woods, turning their night of campfires and s'mores into something freezing, potentially deadly, and very triggering for Sam. </p>
<p>Written for the Destiel Ficlet Challenge. Prompt: "Person A and Person B go on a camping trip. Apparently the woods have a strange way of bringing people together."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Will Comfort Sammy?

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was really not inspiring at all, until I brought in The Groke from the Moomin books. And it's much less shippy than I had planned, because a certain moose demanded air time and cuddles. So, here's Team Free Will hypothermia fic, with added flashbacks and food issues. No Wincest/Wincestiel intended.
> 
> Big thanks to my betas, [BennyBatch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BennyBatch) and [Perivaleyard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perivaleyard/).

"I don't understand this human tradition, Dean. You've slept 'in the rough' often enough; what's the purpose of seeking out the experience?" He even did the damn finger quotes. Dean rolled his eyes and shook out his sleeping bag.

"Because it's different, okay? It just is. We're gonna have a few beers, sit by the fire, freeze our asses off and eat s'mores. And then, if you're not busy being a little bitch about it, we're gonna watch the stars." For some reason he didn't even want to articulate, watching the stars with Cas was important. Sam sniggered behind him. "Shut up. You know all the constellations, Sammy." 

"Yeah, right. I know all the ones you made up. Like the vampire and the Enterprise." They all got up, and started building a fire with experienced hands. Sure, most of the time, they burned bones, but that didn't mean they never had made a fire just to keep warm, and maybe to cook.

"We didn't get much of this when we were kids, Cas," Sam filled in. "I think Dean's just suffering from acute nostalgia. If it's called nostalgia when he's longing for something he never had."

"The Germans have a word for that," Cas replied, looking towards the horizon across the lake.

"The Germans have a word for everything," Dean said, as he poked the kindling with a stick. Sam slapped his hands away with a bitchface.

"True. Compounding is a fruitful way of expressing the complexity of human emotion with mere words."

Sam grinned, and clinked his bottle against Cas'. "Cheers for compound languages. Or should I say 'prost'?"

"Kippis," Cas said.

"Geeks," Dean said.

"You should have followed with 'skål'," Sam complained. After that (absolutely unnecessary) comment, silence fell over the campsite. Or, well, a hushed mood, because it was never really quiet out here. A loon cried out in the pre-dusk, and several more joined in. The waves crashed lazily against the shore, and the fire crackled as the baby flames licked the bigger logs.

***

Three beers, two hot dogs, and and an uncountable amount of s'mores later, Dean's fingers and butt cheeks started going numb. Of course, he had been the one to tell Cas that they were supposed to freeze, so he kept quiet about it. The fire was slowly dying, even though they had built it to last pretty much all night.

"Dean, did you check the weather before we left?" Sam got up, and put his warmer jacket on over the four layers he was already wearing.

"'Course I did. What, you wimping out 'cause of some chilly toes? Do some jumping jacks."

"No, Dean," Sam said, in that fake patient voice of his that meant he wanted to slap Dean, but tried to avoid it, "I just don't think the lake should freeze. I mean, it's Minnesota, but it's July." Cas went still.

"Cas?" Dean asked, but he was shushed. The embers winked out one by one. A soft, wailing sound was heard from the forest. The ice spread much faster than it should have. Cas suddenly dragged Dean and Sam close and started whispering.

"Are you cold?" They both nodded. "More so than you'd expect?" Another nod. "Be very, very quiet," he breathed. "I think we're dealing with The Groke." Dean could hear the capital letters. He raised his eyebrows in question. "She's lonely, and she's cold, and everywhere she goes, the cold goes with her. She can suck the heat out of a forest fire just by being there. If she sees us, we're dead."

"How do we kill her?" Sam mouthed.

"We don't," Cas replied, and that was that. They huddled together, trying their best to hide behind a few trees away from the trails. Dean could see a large shape in the distance. Big, slow, sort of round, looking vaguely like the kind of ghost kids dress up as on Halloween, flappy fabric trailing behind her and all. Her gaze swept over their general area, with large, round eyes that blinked inhumanly slow, and hints of a terrifying, wide, razor thin grin splitting her head almost in half. Eventually, she left, screaming her loneliness into the wind. When Cas deemed it safe, they slowly disentangled from each other. He broke the silence, his deep voice even more gravelly than usual. "I wish I were still an angel."

"Why?"

"So I could heal you, and heat you back up again. Until the sun comes up, the ground is frozen solid. We can't light a fire. The car's battery is dead. I suspect you're already on your way to developing frostbite. Thankfully, her cold is a dry cold, and your clothes weren't wet, which means that our odds of surviving this night is better than if we had met a frost giant."

"So what the fuck do we do?" Dean asked. He could feel his voice rising in panic. Sam was looking straight ahead at nothing, and his jaws were working. "Sammy? You doing okay?"

"Yeah… Yeah… I'm okay… I'm okay…" Something was off about the way Sam repeated the words.

"No, you're not," Dean said, pondering their options. They could try to get through the night inside the Impala, but that would mean sitting up and trying to sleep, and also that they couldn't share body heat. The backseat was big, but not that big. The tent had some insulation in the floor, and they had their air mattress, bringing them up a bit from the ground. Zipping two sleeping bags together and sleeping on the third, covered by all their extra clothes, would probably give them the best odds. "Hey, Cas, Sam's gonna need some cuddling. Sam, what did you eat?"

"Not much," Cas replied for him. Sam's teeth were shaking loudly. "If you set up the tent, I'll feed him marshmallows and chocolate."

"Good. He's gonna need some calories. You dumbass, you have to eat properly," Dean scolded his brother. "You're not five anymore." That had been a rough year. Dean was nine, just about old enough to heat canned food when John was away on hunts, and Sam had decided not to eat. At all. Dean had no idea how Sam had survived. He had gone scarily skinny, almost enough to bring social services down on them. Ever since, Dean took a personal interest in keeping Sam fed. 

***

After preparing the tent, Dean shuffled inside the sleeping bag. "Come on, guys. It's time for a sleepover." Sam stumbled into the tent, his limbs moving stiffly. He had a spot of chocolate on his cheek, and Dean couldn't help but smile, imagining Cas stuffing Sam's face and missing. "Into the bag you go, Elsa. You're in the middle." With a bit of help, Sam and Cas both got in with him. "There's no way this isn't going to be awkward."

"We might live. That's not awkward," Cas said. With a tiny, one-sided shrug, Dean raised an eyebrow and cocked his head in reply.

"No matter which way we sleep, we're gonna to be in tight enough quarters that if one of us starts thrusting, the rest will have no choice but to follow."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam murmured. "There are things you just don't say when you're about to spoon your brother." After a few hurried lines of negotiation, Dean ended up being the littlest spoon, the long lines of his overgrown brother cold down his back and Cas' hands drifting across them both.

"Cas, stop fondling us. Just find somewhere you can keep your hands, and then keep them there." They kept silent for a while, trying not to be bothered by the proximity. Dean had a feeling it might be a bad idea to sleep. Behind Dean, Sam started shaking. "This is a good sign, right?" he asked Cas. "If he's shivering, at least his body hasn't stopped trying to heat him."

"Shut up," Sam said quietly. "Just… Shut up and leave me alone." He didn't stop, though. Dean could feel Cas' hands moving up and down along Sam's sides, stroking Dean's back, too, just because they were that close.

"Sam?" Cas asked. "Is it Lucifer?" Oh, fuck. Yeah, the Devil burned cold. Dean remembered his own dismissal of the subject in Detroit. Sam choked down a sob. To hell with it. Dean tried turning over, which was easier said than done.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm trying -- mphf -- to give you a hug. You're not making it easy." There. He was facing Sam, far too close, but it would do. He pulled his brother into his arms, squeezing a bit too hard. Sam buried his face in Dean's shoulder, making sad little noises but not actually crying. Cas caught Dean's eyes for a moment, and then tried to help, too. His arms wound around both brothers and he rested his cheeks between Sam's shoulder blades. "There, there," Dean said.

"I've never understood why humans say that."

"I think it's because we want the one who's sad to know we're there for them," Dean replied softly. "Or just because we don't know what to say." He raked his hands through Sam's overly long hair. Eventually, he could feel the grief run out of Sam, as he slowly stopped both shaking and shivering. "There we go. Just never tell anyone about this, ever."

"Who would I tell? All my friends are either here or dead." Dean slowly turned back again, trying his best to dial down the intimacy a bit.

"Jody would piss herself laughing. And Charlie would… speculate."

"I'm with you on Charlie, but I think you're underestimating Jody, Dean. I know her better than you do, and I know she's a good woman. And she's someone who knows sorrow."

Dean pondered if it was worth it to make fun of Sam about his crush, but decided it would open himself up to a few unwarranted questions. They were still not warm enough to sleep safely. "So, Cas, tell us more about The Groke."

"I don't know what else to tell you. It's a heartbreaking story, really. She wants companionship and love, but she can't ever get close to anyone." 

Dean could feel Sam nodding, his long hair tickling the back of Dean's head. "Yeah. I know the feeling," Dean said. 

Cas drew a loud breath. "But unlike you, she's immortal. She might be a goddess of some kind, but I don't know of anyone who's worshipped her. I think she was first spotted in Finland, but she's wandered the subarctic regions for millennia. She travels the seas on a small island of ice that forms around her, using her skirts as a sail. This is unusually far south for her. I couldn't have killed her, even when I was an angel. Blades have no effect. They usually freeze and break when they're near her. Any form of energy transfer just feeds her. If I had tried to burn her eyes out like she was a demon, she would have sucked my Grace from my lifeless vessel and left me a burnt out husk, like she did with our fire."

"So we're just going to let her walk?"

"I don't think we have a choice, Dean. I doubt even Bobby could come up with a way to kill her, though I suspect she'd embrace death if you could offer it to her. But let's not talk about her anymore. It's said that she can hear her name, and that she comes to those who talk about her, eager for companionship."

"Okay, subject change, got it." Dean pondered a bit. "Hey, my butt feels almost warm again!"

"Don't you dare wiggle," Sam said.

They kept reasonably still for a few hours, waiting for the sun to rise. After a while, the tent started stinking something awful. "Sa-am," Dean said, warningly.

"I can't help it! I get gassy from sugar!"

"I can vouch for that," Cas said, breathing through his mouth.

"And that's why I avoid junk food, Dean."

"Yeah? I don't see you avoiding Mexican, fart-man."

"It's a guilty pleasure, okay?" With all that aired out (Heh. He was hilarious.), the silence settled over them again. Sam had started squirming, but stopped when Cas laid a hand on his belly.

"I think you're safe to sleep, now," Cas said, and eventually, they did. It wasn't a particularly restful sleep, but they could close their eyes just a little while.

***

Dean woke up in a tight cuddle. For once, he didn't wake up with an instinctual surroundings check. Instead, he just burrowed in closer, smelling the shoulder his head rested on. Then his mind came back online. No. That would be Sam back there. There was room in the sleeping bag, so he tried to slither away. A strong arm tensed across his stomach, pulling him closer to a half-hard dick. Dean tried to struggle, but he was interrupted by Cas' deep morning voice. "Lie back, Dean. Sam is out for a morning run. Did you know you two snore in counterpoint?"

Dean decided to be the bigger man, and ignore the frankly libelous accusation. (Or was it slanderous? He could never keep those two straight, but then, he wasn't the lawyer in the family.) "Disgusting." The arm around him was suddenly removed. "No, not you, Cas. Running is disgusting, especially in the morning."

"It will help him shake the stiffness from the cold, and get the blood flowing. Running is good for him."

Apparently, his brain was not yet connected to his mouth. "Should I help you shake the stiffness? It seems you've got no problems with blood flow," he blurted out. He could feel Cas behind him, his whole body shaking. "You freezing?" he asked, worried. They had barely even thought about him or Cas, since they were so busy getting Sam warm. Cas' head thumped against Dean's back, repeatedly.

"No," Cas replied. There was a suppressed giggle in his voice.

"You laughing?" Dean accused.

"Is this the famous Dean Winchester seduction? Bad erection puns? Really?"

"Well, is it working?"

"Of course it is. I'm a sure thing." Cas laid his hand on Dean's cheek and gently turned his head. "But you knew that, because you must have known how much I love you." The words surged through Dean, roaring like his quickening heartbeat in his ears. He could feel his cheeks turn red, and he could no longer meet Cas' gaze. "I love you, and I'll never leave you cold and alone."

"I didn't know," he said in a small voice, as he leaned in for a tender kiss. "I might have hoped, but I didn't know, and I didn't dare to assume." Cas' lips tasted like morning breath and stale marshmallows, and it was still the best kiss he'd ever had. He deepened the kiss, dragging his hands through the short, spiky hair at the back of Cas' neck. As Cas opened his mouth, Dean backed away slightly to get a few words in. "Would you mind hanging one of my extra socks on the pole outside?"

Cas did, looking slightly perplexed. Dean took the chance to ogle his butt and thighs from the unusual angle. Yup, nice goods, even while wearing loose-fitting jeans. "Dean," he said when he got back down on the air mattress, "I don't understand the purpose of this human tradition."

Dean pulled him in for another kiss, deep and dirty. "The purpose is that it scares away the interrupting moose," and another kiss (he could get used to this), "and gives us a chance to get warm properly."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Tove Jansson's Moomin-universe book Who Will Comfort Toffle? Highly recommended. It's in verse, and I don't know if the English translation is any good, though. Actually, I'd recommend all the Moomin books. Unlike the cartoons, they're very restrained but emotional, with a lot of both bittersweet feelings and whimsy. Also, for those looking for LGBTQ+ authors, Tove Jansson was a lesbian. Her life partner Tuulikki is in the books, as the bohemian Too-Ticky.
> 
> Things I borrowed from the Moomin books and cartoons: The Groke, of course. A beautifully tragic character. The Groke once put out a forest fire just by being her icy self. According to Moominpappa, The Groke travels by the method I described. "She found it slow-going, but somehow she managed. She had time. She had nothing else but time." According to Moominmamma, The Groke comes to people who talk about her.
> 
> The German word that Cas referred to is Sehnsucht, sometimes described as an intense and inconsolable longing for a home one never had. Compounding languages, such as German, Finnish and Swedish, combine separate words into one, with great flexibility. "Prost", "kippis", and "skål" are the German, Finnish and Swedish (respectively) words for "cheers".
> 
> "If one of us starts thrusting" and the counterpoint snoring are actual stories from my friends' and family's military service.
> 
> Libel is written, slander is spoken. ;-)
> 
> I don't know how they'll start the Impala. They will probably need to walk to the closest gas station to get a new battery or to recharge the one they have, unless they're close enough to a road that they can get someone to jump start the car. (But right now, Dean and Cas have other things on their minds.)
> 
> Don't get your ideas of appropriate outdoors clothing and/or proper procedure for hypothermia care from fanfic, not even fanfic written by a physician (such as this one). If you do experience hypothermia, and if you don't have any heated indoor environment to escape to, please don't drink alcohol and don't take your clothes off unless they're wet. Sharing body heat works even if you both wear clothes. Try to keep off the ground and in close contact. Hands or feet with frostbite are best warmed in someone's armpit. Shivering is your body's way of using your muscles to burn calories and keep you warm, and when the shivering stops, the hypothermia is severe. The need for calories increases when your body needs to create more heat.


End file.
